Whisper to a Scream
by Carmen Duckie
Summary: A killer is on the loose. Cidney moved out of town before the killings start. Another girl is up to take her place. Can she alone stop the murderer in a mask? [[ Rated for Language and Violence ]]
1. Prologue

**Rated for Language and Violence**

Author's Note: Hey everyone. Guess who? That's right. It's me. It's Carmen, back to make a new story. I finally saw Scream all the way through, loved the ending song, and decided to create a story with my own character in it. Don't like it? Tough. Not my problem, now is it?

Disclaimer: I don't own Scream or any of the original characters. They belong to whoever made it up. I can't remember the name. I only own Kaitlyn. She's a figment of my imagination, okay? This basically has the same storyline as Scream does, and the same characters. Cidney isn't in this.

* * *

"Yes, Cindy, I know. He was totally gawking at her during Homeroom…Yeah…Yeah…Oh my god, seriously?"

The conversation between Rebecca Gloria and Cindy Piers had gone on for quite a while like that, with little 'Oh my god's and 'Oh-no he didn't's here and there. Rebecca popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth and munched on it at the girl on TV ran in terror from a masked man named Jason.

"Yes, I know she's like the ugliest girl in school, but still!" The phone gave off a sounding _Beep_. "Oh, gotta go, Cindy. Someone's on the other line. Ok…Yeah…Later." Rebecca flipped her hair and pressed a button on the phone, flashing over to the second line. "Hello?"

"Hey there," said a male voice. "Is this Rebecca Gloria?"

Rebecca smiled into the phone and giggled a little. "Yes, who's this?"

"Oh," said the voice, "Just someone you know. What-cha doing?"

Rebecca switched the phone to the other ear and turned her TV off. Standing up with the popcorn bowl in her hand, she made her way to the kitchen. "Just putting some popcorn up."

"Ah, what movie were you just watching?"

Rebecca paused, confused for a minute. "How did you know I was watching a movie?" She questioned slowly.

The voice laughed. "Popcorn. I assumed you were watching a movie. So, now that I know you were watching something, what was it?"

Rebecca sighed with relief and laughed. "Oh, just some stupid movie where a big-breasted blond girl is chased around by a masked murderer only to be killed in the end. To tell the truth, Friday 13th really isn't all that special. You can predict what happens."

"So you like scary movies?"

"I guess you could say that, yeah," Rebecca shrugged, setting the popcorn bowl on a counter after emptying it's contents into the garbage.

"So," the voice said, "what's your favorite scary movie, Rebecca?"

"I dunno. I don't think I really have one. Maybe the Elm Street series. Freddy seems to be a funny villain to base a story off of."

"I see."

Rebecca snorted. "Hey, you never told me your name. C'mon, now. What sad game is it when you know my name, but I don't know yours?"

The voice chuckled. "A _fun_ game, Rebecca."

Rebecca smirked to herself. "Are you flirting with me?"

"Maybe."

"This is odd, someone flirting with me over the phone."

"Yes, maybe it is," the voice said. "Oh, and might I add, that shirt with the green puppy you're wearing is to die for."

Rebecca's face went ghost white as she looked down at her shirt. A small, green puppy sat just below her collar. "Wh-who are you?"

"Do you like scary movies, Rebecca?"

"You already asked that question and I answered it! Now it's time for you to answer me! Who are you?" Rebecca said, her voice quivering with fright. Her eyes darted to the several windows in her kitchen. A bush moved to her right, making her jump. Her hand made it's way towards a long, slender knife in the utensil rack on the counter next to the popcorn bowl.

"You could say I'm your choice between life and death. Now, Rebecca, you said you liked scary movies before. Am I correct in that assumption?"

"Y-yeah, why?" Rebecca clutched the knife at her side, her hand shaking. Slowly, she made her way into the living room again, her eyes searching for any sign of the person.

"We're going to play a little game," the voice teased. "I'm going to ask you three questions about scary movies. You get them right, you can tell your friends about me. Get them wrong and your friends will be hearing about you on the news and 'Unsolved Murder Mysteries.' Am I clear?"

Rebecca sobbed. "Go to hell!" She clicked the phone off. It rang again.

_Click_. "Hello?"

"You hang the phone up on me and there won't be any time for wrong answers! You hear me?"

By this time, Rebecca was hysterical. Her hand was shaking so terribly, that the knife clutched in its grasp threatened to slip onto the floor. She pressed her back up against the wall and slid to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. "Yes."

"Good," the voice said a bit more calmly, "First question: In Nightmare on Elm Street, Freddy was killed where?"

Rebecca sat up. "In a boiler room. That's right, I know it is."

"Correct. Next question. The original 'Ring' movie was in what language?"

"Uh…" Rebecca chewed her lip nervously. "Chinese?"

"Wrong! Japanese, Rebecca. The Japanese come up with the scariest stories."

Rebecca jumped as a loud **BANG** echoed from the back door to the kitchen. She began crying as she realized what it was. "Please! Don't kill me…I don't wanna die!"

"I won't…If you answer this last question correctly. It's very simple. Care to answer?"

She choked on her sobs, trying to pull herself together. _Ok_, she told herself, _if I answer this, I'll live. He'll go away_. "Ok," Rebecca spoke, taking a deep breath.

"Which room am I in?"

Rebecca's breath caught in her throat as she heard movement shoot through the dining room. Too terrified to think correctly, she darted for the front door and unlocked it. As she yanked open the door, a person in a black suit with a white, ghost-like mask pressed over his face grabbed her by the arm. His other hand was hiked over his head, a shining black knife blade raised in the air. Rebecca screamed, wrenching her arm out of his grip.

The girl darted up the staircase, getting herself lost in the many rooms in the hallway. As silently as possible, Rebecca slipped into her mother and father's bedroom, locking the door behind her with a small _Click_. She pressed her ear to the door, breathing heavily, trying to listen for the masked man. Stomping came slowly up the steps, stopping on the top one, most likely trying to figure which room she was in.

Rebecca listened as the footsteps retreated back down the stairs. She felt a trickle of something go down the arm her knife was pressed against. Wiping it away, she looked down at her arm, noticing that she'd cut herself running up the steps. There was a trail of blood where she had been…

A crash came as the masked figure belted through the window of the room. Rebecca screamed and went to yank open the door to find it locked as she had put it. The person came towards her and grabbed her hair, sticking his knife in her free arm. The pain was unbearable for Rebecca as she freed the lock and tumbled down the stairs.

Recovering from her fall, Rebecca stood up, limping to the open front door with her now twisted ankle. Whimpering at the pain, she made her way outside into the bushes, hoping the man wouldn't find her. He stalked outside soon after, looking around for her. He drifted towards the trees, the bushed on the side of the house, and finally stood there wondering where she was. Rebecca made the wrong decision to gasp as a twig stabbed itself into her wounded arm. He turned around and grabbed her by the throat

"P-please…" her voice was barely above a whisper. The man shook his head and she cried. Rebecca tried to struggle free, but she was too weak from blood loss. He pinched the side of her throat in, causing her to choke. Then he raised his knife and plunged it into her chest.

- - -

"Honey, we're ho-oly shit!"

The place was a mess. Mr. and Mrs. Gloria had arrived home from dinner to find their house torn apart. They stepped over over-turned chairs and piles of what used to be expensive vases. Mrs. Gloria looked down at the ground and gasped. There lies a shining black knife…Covered in shining red blood.

"Honey?" She whispered. Mr. Gloria glanced at what his wife saw and made his way around the house, crying, "Rebecca!"

Mrs. Gloria stepped over the mess into the living room as her husband made his way around the house. There in the chair sat her daughter, her back to her and facing the TV screen which played Friday 13th.

"Oh, thank god you're alright Rebe…" then she screamed.

Rebecca Gloria sat on the sofa, a kitchen blade protruding from her ribcage, completely gutted from the inside out.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Billy Loomis! What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

Kaitlyn screeched as the brown head of a boy popped up out of the tool shed in her backyard. She'd gone to retrieve a shovel for her father. They'd been planning to make a small garden along their back fence since she was but five years of age. They'd only gotten around to doing it now, when she had aged twelve more years.

"Well, I just thought I'd drop by, you know. Check out what was going on, the usual," he said, shrugging his shoulders, his hands pressed deep into his pockets.

Kaitlyn shook her head and went back to searching for the shovel. "I'm not Cidney. You can't pop up on me all the time."

Billy cocked his head to the sighed and grinned. His smile alone could melt solid gold, but Kaitlyn just glared at him. Cidney Prescott, one of her dearest friends, had moved away a year and a half ago. Billy had been her boyfriend for that short amount of time, but now that she was gone, he seemed to have taken a liking to both Kaitlyn and bugging her.

"I won't," he said. He never was much for talking.

"Don't you have someone else to go bother," she questioned, finding the shovel beneath a pile of bricks, pails, and other assorted gardening and carpentering equipment. Yanking hard, Kaitlyn fell backwards, almost impaling herself on a rake, if it weren't for Billy, who zoomed to the rescue.

"Thank you, Super Man, but go bother Stu or someone. I'm busy," she seemed to be the one doing all the talking.

Kaitlyn brushed the dust that clung to her clothing off and stepped outside into the sunlight. Billy seemed to be attached to her shadow or something, because he went on following her. "Stu's working. Randy made this big scene about something and got fired. Again. If you ask me, he's a load of it."

"Of what?"

"Crap."

Kaitlyn snorted, shaking her head. "That's nice. Don't you have some movie to go watch?"

"I've already seen them all."

"Yeah right."

"I have. Go ahead," he dared her. "Ask me about anything."

"Whose the killer in Friday 13th?"

"Mrs. Voorhees."

"Ah, ah, Mrs. Voorhees only appeared in the first one. Jason is the main killer."

Billy stopped walking and quirked an eyebrow. She had a point. "But if it weren't for Mrs. Voorhees, Jason wouldn't've been the killer. So, technically, you're wrong."

"Oh, come on. I'm not going to argue with you over some stupid movie trivia question," Kaitlyn rolled her eyes. Under her breath, she added, "Not when I know I'm right, anyways."

"I heard that."

"Go home, Billy."

-

"Dad, I've got the shovel! Dad?"

The house was quiet. It was the middle of the afternoon, sure, but it was noiseless. Kaitlyn peered around, propping the dirty shovel against the kitchen doorframe. Slowly, she made her way up the staircase to her father's room, where she could hear mumbling. "No, no…Business, James, business, not a freaking Aloha party…"

Pushing the door to her father's room open slightly, Kaitlyn saw him packing a suitcase in a hurry. "Dad?"

Her father, James Hyde, turned around after almost jumping out of his skin. "Oh, sorry, Honey. You gave me a scare, there. Well," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Something's come up. A few of the people from work are being sent out of state to work on this project. It's supposed to 'promote a better society' or something of the sort."

Kaitlyn's hopes dropped. "But…Dad, you promised we'd get to do that garden."

Mr. Hyde sighed and looked at his downtrodden daughter. "I'm sorry, Sweetie. I'll be gone a whole week. When I get back, we'll do the garden for sure, ok? But right now, I'm in a hurry."

Kaitlyn frowned. "Ok then. I'll be over at Tatum's, then?"

Tatum was also a friend of hers. Cidney had known her since they were little. Kaitlyn thought this would be a good time to go over to Tatum's house anyways. She needed to tell her about Billy's appearing act in her shed earlier.

"Yeah, I'm afraid I don't want you being alone. Her brother, Dwayne was it? Isn't he a Police Officer?"

"It's Dewey. Yes, he's deputy at the moment."

"You'll be safe over there."

"Since when did anyone care about whether I was safe or not?" Kaitlyn grumbled as she saw herself out of the room.

Stomping harshly down the staircase, Kaitlyn made her way to the phone, intent on calling Tatum and discussing these matters with her. She almost always understood problems and tried to help.

"Hey, Dewey. Is Tatum there?"

"Yeah, hold on," the voice on the other line said.

There was a pause.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Tatum. Does your mother know about the whole thing with my dad going out of town?"

"Yeah, why?" There was another pause. Kaitlyn supposed it was her thinking. "Oh, he didn't tell you until just now? We've known about it for ages. You're serious, he didn't tell you?"

Kaitlyn made and aggravated noise into the phone and slammed her hand down on the counter.

"How come you said nothing of this to me?"

"I thought you knew!"

"Oh, well…" Kaitlyn sighed and shook her head at herself. She was seventeen, but she was acting like a five year old. "Ok, I guess I'll be over there in a while, then? Oh, and before I forget, I have to tell you something. It's not important. Just odd."

"Ok then. Later, Kaitlyn."

Click.

Click.

-

"Hey, Kaitlyn. It's nice to have you over."

Dewey was at the door in his Officer uniform to greet her. Kaitlyn just thought it was dumb to be wearing that just to greet someone, because five minutes later, be was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

"You're ridiculous, Dewey, you know that," Tatum said as she found her way to the door. Kaitlyn smiled. "Hey, Kait! C'mon, bring your stuff up to my room. I'll help you with it."

Grabbing half of her belongings, Tatum led Kaitlyn up the stairs to a large room with two large beds. "You get this one," Tatum said pointedly as she set Kaitlyn's stuff down on the floor next to the doorway. The bed had pink sheets with small blue and green flowers decorating it. Obviously, she'd fixed the room since her last visit.

"So, what was that not-so-important thing you wanted to tell me about?" Tatum said, flopping on her own bed. It was already six in the evening, so it was getting dark outside.

"Billy."

"You like him? Is that it?"

"No, Tatum. I'll pull your ears off it you say that again."

Tatum snickered, covering up her ears. "Oh no! The ear monster!"

Kaitlyn shook her head. "Anyways, he popped up on me this afternoon. He started talking about something stupid. Being bored or something, I wasn't listening. Then we got into this stupid fight over who was the killer in Friday 13th."

"It's Jason."

"Yeah, that's what I said! But no, he says its Mrs. Voorhees…"

"Kaitlyn?"

"Yeah?"

"You're babbling."

"Oh," Kaitlyn said, her face flushing a shade of pink. "Sorry."

"Now what was it you were saying about Billy?"

Kaitlyn regained her composure and told her how Billy had snuck up on her and how he kept questioning her until she told him to leave.

Tatum made a noise. "Ooh, looks like someone's got the hots for you."

"That's funny, Tatum. Really. I'm dieing on the inside, here."

Kaitlyn collapsed backwards onto her bed and sighed, staring up at Tatum's ceiling. The colors matched everything in the room. She wondered how one person could stand it being changed. She thought it was odd, herself. By the time they got done with their chat, it was already ten.

"We could always talk about it in the morning?" Tatum asked, pulling out a set of green and yellow pajamas.

"Yeah." Kaitlyn replied, pulling out her own blue ones.

They dressed and fell asleep.

-

Happy New Years, all!


End file.
